The Triumphs of the Father
by Kel'Ayresh nar Acheron
Summary: The untold story of Rael'Zorah and Han'Gerrel as they complete their Pilgrimage, as told from the perspective of Silas'Megara nar Moreh. Two and a half Original Characters, slight canon stretching. Note; Image from ArtemyMaslov of Deviant art, not mine in ANY way.
1. A ship with a Gibberish Name

Silas'Megara nar Moreh curled his face into a frown as he looked out the shuttle's viewport. 7 months ago, he, along with Rael'Zorah nar Sallen and Han'Gerrel nar Sallen set out on their Pilgrimage early, considering their ages. In those 7 months, they had not come anywhere close to finding what they were going to bring back as a gift to the Migrant Fleet. The three had drifted from odd job to odder job, never really maintaining stability for more than a few weeks. In the last job, the trio had procured a former Turian Shuttle, scrapped because of its unreliable Eezo core. As the ship lurched once more, Silas understood why the Turians had scrapped it. It was, in all practicalities, a deathtrap.

Zael slapped the shuttles controls from his position in the Pilot's chair, spouting several choice words at the aged ship. Silas chuckled to himself as he looked over to Han'Gerrel, sleeping quietly on the shuttles rusted floor. Silas sat up in the comm officer's chair, attempting to see an ETA to the Mass Relay. Rael's hooded head blocked his view. The pilot was humming a half forgotten tune from the Flotilla, off pitch but blissfully unaware of the fact. Silas cringed as he looked back out into the abyss

He sighed to himself as he saw the endless possibilities of the Pylos Nebula taunting him. Just as he began to drift into sleep, a light on the monitor began beeping. Silas' face furrowed even more behind his mask. Though he was unparalleled in his mechanical expertise, Silas was the weakest among the group when it came to interpreting alien displays.

"Ancestors," He cursed quietly under his breath, " Rael, could you come over here? I can't make heads or tails of this system," Silas continued louder than before.

" Sure, what is the probl-" Rael stumbled over Han as he came to the station. "Bosh'tet! Han, could you at least try to choose a logical place to sleep?! Sorry Silas, where was I?"

"You were coming to help me, Rael." Silas replied, slightly annoyed at the two's clumsiness.

" Ah yes…" Rael's eyes darted across the screen from behind his visor "..um, Okay, it appears that we have picked up a not-so-derelict ship on sensors, should not be anything to worry abo-" Something on the screen stopped Rael.

"What is it?"

"This ship doesn't seem to possess a Element Zero core, or if it did, the Eezo must have deteriorated." Han spoke over Rael's shoulder. He paused to think as the other two turned around to face him. A thought popped into the gung-ho quarian's head, and he started to grin wide behind his black visor.

"No. No, No, No. Nonononono! Han, I know what you are thinking! We have no idea what is on that ship!" Rael asserted, attempting to be a voice of reason, though failing marvelously.

"Ancestors, Rael, can't we at least have a little adventure? This ghost Ship, It will be exciting, just like the Yaska!" Han pleaded.

"You and I must have drastically different opinions on what counts as entertaining, we were nearly killed in that 'adventure'!"

"As I recall, it was your idea to commandeer the Yaska! C'mon Silas, you were there too, back me up on this one!" Han turned to Silas, trying to convince him.

"That was fun, Rael, you have to admit that," Silas conceded, "I vote we at least check out ship. If it's uninteresting we can leave and continue to Illium."

Rael paused as he weighed his options. They still had several more Relays before Illium. For the longest of moments, he appeared as though he was going to ignore their pleas. And then he began to laugh, a deep sonorous chuckle from the back of his throat.

"Okay, my friends, we will go check out this mystery ship of yours! Perhaps we might even catch a lucky break this time!" Rael shook his head once more before looking back to the

Rael decelerated the destitute shuttle to manageable velocities, and began an approach on the mystery ship. Silas looked through the viewport as he saw the ship slowly take up more and more of the space. The ship was obviously larger than a Frigate, but Silas was hesitant to state it as being a Cruiser. On the side of the cruiser were some letters; they appeared to be a name. The letters were lit by flood lights, ones that flickered periodically.

_**Αχέρων**_

That was the name displayed on the ships side. Silas' face twisted in confusion. Why hadn't his suit's VI translated it into Khellish Script? All races registered with the Citadel maintained language databa-

Silas cut his thoughts off as he came to a revelation. This ship must be from a species that has never contacted the Citadel.

"Um, Rael?" Silas beckoned for the elder Quarian's attention from his position towards the back of the ship. "Rael'Zorah? I think we stumbled on an adventure."


	2. A Man with a Gibberish name

"Are you absolutely sure?" Rael asked Silas for the 6th time, "This might just be some Salarian STG op gone south; we don't want to stumble into something like that"

Han spoke up from his position in the shuttles anterior "Rael, this could very well be a big break for us! Ancestors know what this ship might hold! We could be discovering a new race, or at least finding an abandoned ship from an old one! We absolutely have to check this out!" Han was almost yelling in excitement at this point.

Silas turned to Rael, watching the trio's defacto leader lean back in the Pilot's chair and tap his skull in concentration. After what seemed like forever, Rael reset his posture and began to speak to the other two quarians.

"I am expecting you to be on your best behavior. Han, don't embarrass us like that time on Samross." Rael chuckled as he gave his decision

"Ancestors Rael, you are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"I believe his words had been 'Not until we are standing on the Homeworld' as of 2 months ago" Silas responded on Rael's behalf, a twinkle in his eye, hidden by his opaque visor.

"Keelah…" Han'Gerrel paused briefly as he searched for a way to changed the topic. Silas swore he could see the quarian blushing under his mask. "How do you want us to get into this Ship?"

Before Rael could open his mouth, Silas nudged himself forward and began speaking. "There appears to be some sort of cargo hold towards the stern of the ship, I would suggest we go there"

Rael simply nodded as he adjusted the shuttles course to enter the ship's hold. the doors to the hold were splayed open, as though someone, or something, had tried to pull them off their hinges. As he was pulling the rusted shuttle into the hold slowly, the eezo core began to fluctuate violently. 'Ancestors, please not now' Salis silently prayed as the shuttled tilted and dropped onto the floor of the hold with a monstrous creak. As with the last fluctuation, Rael spewed another generous amount of curses at the shuttle, claiming its ancestors to be defective toasters. When the shuttle stopped its convulsions, Silas let out an audible sigh of relief, a relief that was shattered by Han'Gerrel and his laughter.

"Keelah, Rael, I knew you never liked this bucket of bolts, but was that absolutely necessary?" He cried out as he gasped for air between his whooping laughs.

"Ha ha ha, I'm only getting started, you bosh'tet," Rael rebutted as he faked a laugh

" Silas, are you ok? You look as though you crushed that Armrest."

Silas looked down to his hands. He had not realized he had been holding onto the fixture so intently. Sure enough, the metal of the armrest was warped from his vice like grip, a feat that he was presently surprised by. Silas pulled himself out of the chair and turned to Rael and Han.

"Let's go see what there is to find in this ship, shall we?"

* * *

Silas breathed hard within his envirosuit as he and the other two Quarians walked through the ships empty halls. They were unlike any design he had ever seen before, a dark blue, almost water in texture. There were several blank terminals here and there; imbedded into the walls, but what surprised him the most was the functionality of certain things. The bulkheads were manually operated, and were impossibly heavy. Were it not for the lack of atmosphere, the hinges would have rusted together long ago. Silas wondered to himself how long the ship had been here, drifting aimlessly in the Pylos Nebula, with no one to claim her. It must have been at least a century, given the condition of the superstructure. It was in excellent condition, without a doubt, but the shuttles less than smooth landing had caused the ship to creak for a full ten minutes.

That was a full 20 minutes ago. Silas was now exploring deeper into the ship, alone.

The ship wasn't battle damaged, as far as he could tell, so why was it abandoned? Megara's thought was shattered when he was called over the radio.

"….Megara nar Moreh, come….Mor…..ave you….anything?" The heavy metal walls of the ship disrupted the signal, reducing it to a conglomeration of static. Silas felt a shiver creep up his spine. He reached to his visors communication suite and sent a reply.

"Rael'Zorah, negative on that last transmission, this ship is running a real number on our comms." After a brief moment, a reply came, but it was even more unintelligible than the previous. The only words Silas could discern from the tempest of static were "power surges". Silas tilted his head slightly at that statement. This ship was incredibly old, close to 3000 years by his guess. The odds of a ship this old still having power were low, but not unheard of. But for a ship this old to be fluctuating in its power dangerously, than something must definitely be wrong. Silas pondered this for 2 minutes, weighing his options. Eventually his curiosity won over his desire to be safe, and the young quarian spoke one last time into his comm.

"Rael'Zorah, Han'Gerrel, I am heading deeper into the ship to find the source of the fluctuations, will check back in 30." A chilling burst of static was his only reply. The overhead lights flicked on, then popped out unceremoniously. Silas was alone.

* * *

'Silas, this has to take the cake for your bad decisions.' the young quarian walked in near silence through the ghostly ship, trudging ever deeper into an unknown scenario. The ship started to become more or less pleasant as Silas followed his Omni-Tool's read out. Silas had long ago modified his Omni-tools display, giving it a Red hue that flooded the abandoned halls of the ship. Silas once again shivered as the distance to the target dropped to the single digits. 10 meters….9 meters...8 meters...7 meters...6 meters. The hall curved to reveal the entrance to what appeared to be a Combat Information Center.

4 meters. It briefly became harder to move, Silas had just entered a Mass Effect field that contained a breathable atmosphere. 3 meters. The Quarian entered the CIC, an arena shaped room, containing a table in the center and a four sided monitor that appeared to act as a radar display. In the opposite side of the room, Silas saw the source of the fluctuations. An opaque cylinder stood upright with a console right next to it, one that was projecting two Haptic Displays, one red and the other Green. As He walked closer to the console, the Cylinder lost its opaqueness revealing its contents slowly, like a vine receding from a column. Inside was an Organic, Male by Silas's estimate. He bore remarkable resemblance to quarians, having the same double knees, though with a much stronger build. That was not the most remarkable thing though. The Subject had cybernetic prostheses instead of arms; each coming to an end with 6 fingers on each, there was a thumb on each side. On top of that, the Subject appeared to be wearing some sort of envirosuit. He noted it was a hoodless envirosuit It resembled the musculature of an organics body. The envirosuit's hexagon patterned fibers twitched slightly as Silas observed. He jumped back at the subject's appearance, asking how one would be preserved so well for so long. Then the subject's pulsed blue, as though it was a heartbeat, the pulse emanating from the center of the chest before traveling down the fibers to the subject's fingertips and feet.

Silas walked up to the Subject's pod, trying to read the dog tags on the chest. He was not surprised when his translator did not transpose it into Khellish, but regardless read the Subjects name

_**ζαρii**__**σ, Δαμi**__**αν**_

_**βαστi**__**λλη**_

Silas shrugged as he pondered the meaning of this "name". It appeared that it was some variation the quarian two name system, though the clan name was placed first for identification purposes. The second line appeared to be a rank or callsign. He looked once more at the console. The green light was blinking, almost calling the quarian to press it. Curiosity pulled him to the console, Silas could hear in the recesses of his mind, his friend, Daro'Xen

'Press the button, what is the worst that can happen?'

He slammed the button and the Subject began to thaw with a hiss

* * *

Darkness. That was the first thing he felt, ebony hand pulling at his sides, calling him to stay where he was. He gasped for air, the Darkness trying to pull him back in. The Darkness asked for a name.

'My name? I dont know my name!'

The Darkness answered the question for him

**We are known as Bastille to your enemies, but you are Damian Zariis to your friends**

'Bastille…. Bastille….. Is that your name?'

**No. When together, joined, We are Bastille. When alone, You are Damian and we are nothing.**

'I don't….I...Don't understand.'

**You do not need to, you only need to awaken**

'What? Why do I-' Damian's thoughts were cut off.

He fell forward, no longer suspended within the pod. An observer stepped forward to catch him, grunting under Damian's mass. The observer appeared to be friendly, though his face was hidden behind an Opaque visor. He had identical legs to Damian, but his fingers were held together by mittens and were missing a thumb, giving the Observer the appearance that he only had three Fingers. The Observer began to speak, saying something that Damian could not quite understand, save for one phrase.

" ….Silas'Megara…"

* * *

Silas cursed as the Subject's weight began dragging him to the floor. He placed the Subject onto his back, watching as the fearful man looked up and down his body, eventually curiously staring at Silas's hands. As the Subject lay down, Silas tried to speak to him, doubting any Success would come.

"Can you understand me? My name is Silas'Megara nar Moreh, and you have been in cryogenic sleep for…" Silas glanced at the monitor, His VI Translating the numbers "3673 years. What is your name?"

The suited subject lifted a six fingered hand and pointed to Silas. He began to speak; his voice being synthetically altered by his suit to a much larger extent than the quarian was used to.

"Silas'Megara…." He pointed then to himself "Damian'Zariis." He then lost consciousness.

"Bosh'tet, now I have even more questions"


End file.
